


Iratus Issues

by Mavet



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Body Dysphoria, Bug!John, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gift of Life (Stargate), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Medical Procedures, Mutation, Telepathy, Transformation, Trust, Wet Dream, Wraith (Stargate)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mavet/pseuds/Mavet
Summary: When the Iratus DNA in John Sheppard's system once again rears its ugly head, he finds himself again the victim of horrid Wraith-like mutations that none of the Atlantis medical team are able to cure. That's when Rodney enlists Todd's help - for who better to assist Sheppard in acclimating to his new Wraithlike qualities, and maybe help reverse them, than their occasional Wraith ally himself?
Relationships: John Sheppard/Todd the Wraith
Comments: 88
Kudos: 167
Collections: Oh for the love of Todd!





	1. Iratus Bug Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonflower1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflower1/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [koryuu1 (dragonflower1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflower1/pseuds/koryuu1) in the [Todd_fanworks_challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Todd_fanworks_challenge) collection. 



> Thanks to dragonflower1 for engaging my muse with such an interesting prompt - I can only hope it lives up to your expectations - and to bagheerita for her amazing beta and cheerleading skills.
> 
> CW: there's a bit of what one could describe as body dysphoria in here, in case anyone should find that disturbing or distressing at all.
> 
> This story doesn't have a definite place in the canon timeline, though I imagine it's set sometime in a prospective season 6, after Atlantis returns to Pegasus and Todd is reunited with his people.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> _I'd be interested in seeing Todd deal with bug!John. Whether Dr. Beckett's cure only worked enough to restore John's mind, but not his body, or something triggers the Wraith DNA in John's system which causes him to revert into something decidedly iratus-adjacent, he finds himself removed from Command and mistrusted by his fellow Expedition members. Unable to remain on Atlantis, but unwilling to return to Earth and let the scientists at the SGC experiment on him under the guise of trying to return him to normal, his only option is to accept Todd's offer to join him on his Hive so he can learn to adjust to his inhuman appearance, heightened senses, and the disturbing new urge he has to feed._
> 
> _Whether John's condition is permanent or temporary is up to the writer._
> 
> _Graphic depictions of violence okay. Mild non-con okay, as is dubious consent. Sexual situations okay but not mandatory. Team feels are okay. H/C, Action, Adventure, Humor, Angst with a happy ending, all okay._
> 
> _Do Not Want: Todd called Guide, or any naming conventions from the Legacy books; major character death; actual rape/non-con; mpreg; pregnancy; underage; crackfic; kidfic; or animal harm._

“Can you help him?”

Dr. McKay fidgets nervously as he stands between Todd and the door to Colonel Sheppard’s quarters. Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex are also present — the former regards the Wraith openly without fear, while barely-concealed contempt and resignation war for dominance on the expression of the latter. Another doctor, one whom Todd has not met before now, stands next to Dr. McKay. Todd has been told this one is called Carson Beckett.

“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” he says in the strangely accented lilt that’s so different from that of the other Atlanteans. “The Iratus stem cells that we used to cure him the first time have managed to halt the change and are keeping him lucid, but I’m unable to reverse the physical effects that have already occurred.”

“He can’t stay like this,” says Teyla Emmagan. “Mr. Woolsey has already relieved him of command, but there is talk of sending Colonel Sheppard back to Earth.”

“We can’t let that happen,” McKay says quickly. “They’ll send him to Area 51 to be their lab rat. I hate to say it, but death would be kinder.”

“Rodney!” Teyla admonishes.

“You know it’s true!”

“Aye,” says the doctor, “but let’s not resign ourselves to that end just yet, eh?” He looks up at Todd once more. “Please. I know you and Colonel Sheppard have had a rocky go of it lately, but you’ve also worked together a number of times before. If there’s anything at all you can do to help him…”

Todd considers their words. Something has felt odd to him from the moment he set foot in Atlantis at the request of Sheppard’s team. Of the two minds here that ever offer more than the dull, impenetrable façade that human minds typically present for Wraith, one of them does not feel as it should. Teyla Emmagan, of course, possessing the telepathic ability granted by her Wraith DNA, and John Sheppard, whose mind would seem just as dull and unremarkable as any other human’s would to any Wraith other than Todd. But Todd has shared the Gift of Life with Sheppard, and such things are not without their lasting effects. John Sheppard is his _brother_ , and Todd has always been able to sense when he is near. He can sense Sheppard even now, just beyond the closed doors of his quarters, though somehow he feels… different. There is something… _more_ to him now, and Todd suspects that he could perhaps delve deeper than he’s usually able to, if he so wanted.

And he does _want._ He’s wanted many things from John Sheppard over the course of knowing him, though he can’t imagine his human brother ever responding in kind to the majority of his desires. He waits, however, to see Sheppard’s condition before exploring further. Todd is _old,_ and he can be patient.

“I cannot promise anything,” Todd says. “Though I would see John Sheppard’s affliction before I am able to make any determination.”

Sheppard’s team all look at each other, and finally McKay steps aside, waving his hand over the mechanism in the wall, opening the doors, and Todd steps inside, the doors sliding shut behind him.

The first thing he notices is that the room is dark. Not in complete darkness, mind you, as some daylight finds its way through the blinds, but the lights are switched off giving the space a dim quality that is easier on Todd’s Wraith eyes than the harsh artificial lighting he usually associates with human territory.

Next is the smell. He detects Sheppard’s distinct scent all over the room, but where it is strongest, over on the bed where a human-shaped body lies bundled in blankets, it is slightly different than Todd remembers. Sharper, _sweeter_ somehow, though still uniquely _Sheppard_.

Todd isn’t exactly sure what he expects to find. Sheppard’s team exhibit a degree of concern that suggests this is potentially a mortal affliction, though Todd’s senses and the mention of Iratus DNA make him hope Sheppard is simply exhibiting a few qualities that may be more Wraith-like than usual. He can certainly imagine the humans overreacting to such things. He has occasionally fantasized about a universe in which Sheppard is Wraith rather than human, and he finds himself intrigued by the circumstances set before him now.

“I told you to go away, Rodney.”

The voice is definitely Sheppard’s, though there’s an underlying sibilance to it that Todd’s never heard before. It’s not the multi-tonal voice of a Wraith, but there’s something somehow Wraithlike about it all the same. Todd isn’t immediately sure whether he prefers this new vocal quality, or if he misses the true voice of his brother, though he makes a concerted effort to quell his anticipation.

“Sheppard, it is I. Do not be alarmed.”

The body on the bed stiffens and jerks upright, though Sheppard is still facing away from Todd, cloaked in fabric that covers him from head to toe. “ _Todd?_ What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was contacted by your Dr. McKay. He claims you have some affliction that cannot be cured by human means, and has requested my assistance. Your people are worried for you.”

“No kidding,” Sheppard says bitterly. “ _I’m_ worried for me.”

Todd moves slowly, venturing further into the room, approaching Sheppard carefully so as not to startle him. “Will you show me what is the matter?”

“… I’d rather not.”

Todd sighs. “Sheppard, I cannot help you if I cannot see what is wrong.” He reaches tentatively for the edge of the fabric that hides Sheppard’s face and the man flinches away once he catches sight of Todd’s hand within his field of vision.

“Don’t!” Sheppard’s voice is full of fear and pain, though Todd’s fairly sure Sheppard’s fear isn’t of _him_.

He tries a different tactic and reaches out with his mind, gently brushing against the surface of Sheppard’s thoughts. His brother sags where he’s seated on the bed, and nearly sobs with relief.

“Oh god, is that why I’ve felt so empty?”

“Your Dr. Beckett says that you have been infected with Iratus DNA and that it has effected a change upon you. Like Wraith, Iratus are capable of communicating mind-to-mind, so perhaps your mind has been seeking for one to connect with.” He strokes his mind more firmly against Sheppard’s and watches him shiver in response. Todd sits beside Sheppard and strokes a hand comfortingly down his back.

Sheppard sighs. “I don’t know what to do. How to… _be like this._ Everything feels wrong _.”_

“Let me see,” Todd implores again, and this time when he reaches for the fabric, Sheppard doesn’t try to stop him.

The fabric slips from where it cloaks Sheppard’s head when Todd tugs at it, though Todd still has to reach to turn Sheppard’s face towards him to get a proper view. His eyes widen as he takes in Sheppard’s features.

The transformation has bisected Sheppard’s face nearly diagonally from temple to jaw, with the lower right-hand side of his face cast in a mottled Iratus-blue hue. The upper and left side of his face remains human, though both of his eyes are now golden with slitted pupils like Todd’s. The blue extends down the side of his neck where there are small, chitinous spikes that rise from his skin, and Todd longs to touch them, to see if they are stiff or flexible.

“Oh, Sheppard…” Todd says wonderingly. He is wise enough not to tell Sheppard that, in Todd’s eyes at least, he is beautiful, as he knows the sentiment will likely not be well-received. Not that he didn’t find Sheppard aesthetically pleasing beforehand, for a human anyway, though now his features tend more towards those that are further in line with Wraith sensibilities. Todd tugs again at the blanket, to see more of the extent of the change, and the covering slips from John’s shoulder, baring swaths of blue skin all down his right arm and the right side of his chest. Sheppard’s right hand is fiercely clawed, his smallest finger having merged with its neighbour so that only four digits remain, the skin more resembling tough exoskeletal plates than anything even close to human. Todd reaches for Sheppard’s hand, turns it over, and he is surprised to see an irregularly oblong sort of sucker in Sheppard’s palm that is eerily reminiscent of a Wraith feeding maw. Curiously, he probes the organ with his thumb, and Sheppard recoils with a whine.

“You were right,” Sheppard says miserably, curling his arm tightly to his chest. “The hunger _does_ burn like fire.”

Todd’s mouth compresses into an unhappy line. He is intimately familiar with the pain of hunger and it is a cruelty he would not wish on even his worst enemy. His heart hurts for his human brother, though he suspects there is nothing he can say that will make this any easier. “Your healers can do nothing to quell it?” Whereas a Wraith would simply and happily _feed,_ Sheppard would be more likely to sacrifice himself for his people than to cannibalize them for his own survival. Even Wraith only feed on each other in the most dire of circumstances.

Sheppard shakes his head. “They don’t know.” He turns away and Todd can feel the shame in his mind.

After a moment, Sheppard hurriedly re-covers himself with the blanket, and Todd knows that he is more disturbed by the changed state of his body than by his own nudity.

“So? Can you help me?” Sheppard’s voice is at once filled with hope and with terror.

Todd is careful to make his response as measured and cautious as possible. “I cannot make any promises, though I believe there is one aboard my ship who may be able to assist.”

“Aboard your ship.” For a moment, Todd thinks Sheppard will refuse, but then, “Good,” Sheppard sighs. “I can’t stay here — it’s not safe.”

“You suspect you will be harmed?” Todd can’t honestly believe Sheppard’s team would allow this.

“Not safe for _them,_ I mean. I don’t trust myself not to… I’m so _hungry_ … At least you’re strong enough to stop me if I… try anything.” He reaches out with his left hand — his still-human hand — and fists his fingers into the front of Todd’s coat. “Please. Take me with you. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Todd runs his hand soothingly along Sheppard’s arm. “Very well, John Sheppard.” He admits his motivation is not entirely altruistic, though he does care for Sheppard and Sheppard’s well-being; Atlantis is still a formidable power, tenuous ally though they are, presently, and Todd knows it would benefit his Hive for the military commander to remain someone he has an established rapport with — that someone being Sheppard. He has no idea who might succeed Sheppard if the man were permanently compromised, and he will do whatever he can to prevent that eventuality if he is able.

Todd stands, pulling Sheppard up with him and moving to the door, though Sheppard only follows once he’s tucked the blanket more securely around himself. As he approaches, Todd can tell his gait is uneven, as if his legs are now different lengths. Something turns cold in his gut. Though he can’t help but appreciate the somewhat Wraith-like features Sheppard now exhibits, the thought that this change could be physically crippling, even to a minor degree, fills him with unease. Todd knows first-hand what it’s like to have one’s physical abilities curtailed, and he especially does not wish that on a warrior such as Sheppard. Todd hopes whatever this is isn’t already too far gone for Sheppard to recover from.

Sheppard reaches for the door mechanism, but nothing happens. Nor when he tries again. “Oh god,” he says in anguish, and it’s evident that the Iratus has overwritten whatever Ancient DNA Sheppard originally possessed. “Rodney!” he shouts through the door. “I know you’re there. I can’t open the door!”

The door opens and Sheppard’s team stare at him in alarm.

“It wasn’t locked,” Rodney says. “You still couldn’t open it?”

Sheppard shakes his head in the negative.

Beckett and McKay share a worried glance.

“Anyway, Todd thinks the scientists on his ship can help me, so I’ll be gone for a bit, okay?”

“What?” Rodney’s eyes are wide. “You’re going up to the Hive?”

“That’s a stupid idea if ever I’ve heard one,” Ronon growls, glaring at Todd, though he speaks to Sheppard.

Sheppard sighs irritably, and Todd turns away from the humans to begin down the hallway when a large hand grabs his bicep. Todd freezes and then turns slowly to regard Ronon with narrowed eyes and a dangerous expression.

“If anything happens to Sheppard — ” the Satedan begins.

“— I’ll be sure to eagerly await your vengeance,” Todd sneers, baring sharp teeth. “Now, kindly remove your hand before I do it for you.”

Ronon growls again, but wisely lets Todd go.

Todd has no patience for human bickering, so he tugs briefly at Sheppard’s arm and starts off in the direction of the east pier where he had landed his transport craft. Sheppard follows.

* * *

By the time they reach the east pier, Mr. Woolsey has been alerted and is waiting for them with a team of marines.

“Colonel Sheppard, where do you think you’re going?”

“Up to the Hive. Todd says one of his scientists might be able to help me.”

The marines block their path to Todd’s transport and Todd stands tall, looming menacingly over them.

“Do you plan to prevent me from leaving?” he asks dangerously.

Woolsey shakes his head in the negative. “You are free to go, Commander, but Colonel Sheppard must remain here.”

“Mr. Woolsey!” Sheppard protests.

“You’re a walking security risk, John. I’m afraid I have no choice but to insist you stay in Atlantis.”

Sheppard lowers the fabric from his face and Todd hears a few of the marines gasp in either shock, or horror, or both. Woolsey looks distinctly uncomfortable.

“Beckett can’t help me. Keller can’t help me. I can’t live like this, Mr. Woolsey. Either you let me go up to that ship, or you might as well kill me yourself,” Sheppard says. “I promise, they won’t get any sensitive information from me.”

“Not, willingly, maybe,” Woolsey says darkly.

Todd narrows his eyes. “Why would you allow me within your city if you did not trust me at least a little, Mr. Woolsey? I have said that Sheppard is my _brother,_ and yet you still believe I would allow him to come to harm?”

Woolsey is silent, but his mouth twists in a way that leads Todd to suspect he refuses to say what he’s thinking.

“Please,” John entreats again. “It’s not safe to be around me, Mr. Woolsey. At least let them try to fix me.”

“Very well,” Woolsey says, and then he addresses Todd specifically. “But if your ship attempts to break orbit with Colonel Sheppard still aboard, we won’t hesitate to fire upon you.”

“Understood, Mr. Woolsey.” Todd gives a sharp nod and then he strides forward, the marines parting to allow him to board his transport shuttle, Sheppard following in his wake. Todd seats himself in the pilot’s chair within the cockpit, raising the ramp once Sheppard is securely aboard. The human glances around in curiosity before coming to take the seat next to Todd’s.

“There’s more room back there than I’d have guessed,” Sheppard comments, and Todd grins as he fires up the engines.

He slips his hands into the flight controls and makes the mental connection with the shuttle, directing it into the air, retracting the landing apparatus. Once the craft is on course for his Hive, Todd reaches with his mind into the hive-sense and instructs his Master of Sciences Biological to be ready and waiting upon their arrival.

Todd glances over at Sheppard and he can smell as well as feel the anxiety radiating off the man. “Be calm, Sheppard. You have nothing to fear.”

“My fear is that your scientist can’t help me,” he says. “I swear to god, Todd, if you’re bullshitting me about this at all…” The rest goes unsaid as his voice is seemingly caught in his throat.

“I would never toy with you when you are so obviously in distress.” He bends his mind to Sheppard’s again and watches as his human companion sighs with relief, curling further into his seat.

“Don’t — don’t do that,” Sheppard says, voice shaky.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Todd asks. “Is it wrong to seek to comfort one’s brother?”

“It’s not _normal.”_

“Mm, perhaps not for the human in you, no, —”

“— I _am_ human!”

“Indeed. Though presently that is not _all_ that you are. How does the human benefit from keeping the Iratus so isolated when it longs for contact?”

“If… If I give into it, it will just take over faster. Last time I fought it and it still took over.”

Todd hums sadly. “Did not your own Dr. Beckett say that this was a different circumstance?” Sheppard doesn’t respond. “I can feel your mind, John. You are still _you.”_

“Thank god for that, at least,” Sheppard mutters.

“You simply have… hmm… new instincts to appease, perhaps.”

“Look,” Sheppard says, fixing Todd with his newly fierce yellow gaze, so much like Todd’s own. “There will be no ‘appeasing’ of instincts or anything else, for that matter, okay?”

Todd sighs. “These things rarely have instantaneous solutions, you realize. ‘Fixing’ this will likely be a process, if anything. You should be prepared for that.”

“I am!”

Todd regards him carefully. “Very well,” he says, and that is the last they speak of it until he lands the craft aboard his hive ship.

* * *

Todd lands the shuttle easily in a section of the dart bay, and Sheppard follows him as he disembarks.

“Where is everyone?” Sheppard asks suspiciously as he looks around. There is not a single other Wraith in sight.

“I suspected you might appreciate some privacy,” Todd replies, and Sheppard is momentarily speechless, as if perhaps he hadn’t expected such courtesy.

“Thanks,” he says quietly after a moment, and Todd dips his head in a courtly gesture, then spreads his arm wide, beckoning. 

“Come,” Todd says, and leads Sheppard through the twisting warren of corridors to the laboratory of his Master of Sciences Biological.

The Master Biologist is waiting for them when they arrive. His long hair is braided down to his waist, and three dark lines are tattooed vertically from his lower lip to just below his chin. Large, inquisitive eyes take Sheppard in, cataloguing every detail that isn’t hidden beneath swaths of fabric.

“Colonel Sheppard,” he says, voice softer than Todd’s. “The Commander has explained to me some of your predicament, though I would see the full extent of how your anatomy has been altered before determining how best to proceed.”

Sheppard makes a sound that is part sigh, part grumble, though he does allow the fabric to slip from his shoulders, baring his skin down to his waist. The biologist steps closer to investigate, and Todd clears his throat, nodding towards Sheppard’s lower body, earning a treacherous expression from the man in response. John does finally remove the entire blanket from his form, standing only in his undergarments, and both Todd and his biologist can now see the extent to which Sheppard’s right leg has been mutated. It is almost entirely blue, slightly longer than the corresponding left limb, and ends in two clawed and segmented Iratus toes rather than a human foot. Sheppard’s awkward movement when walking is likely exacerbated by the fact that his right foot is now digitigrade while his left is still plantigrade.

If the biologist is at all shocked he hides it well; Todd can sense no inkling of disconcertedness in his mind, only the curiosity of one who enjoys having a new puzzle to solve. He circles Sheppard to examine him further, though Todd can tell Sheppard is becoming more and more uncomfortable. Small bumps appear on the skin that is still human, tiny hairs standing upright, and Todd can smell the anxiety he exudes. He doesn’t think Sheppard will appreciate physical touch in this moment, when he’s already at his most vulnerable, so he soothes his mind against that of his brother’s instead.

Sheppard shivers and his eyes flick briefly towards Todd before he makes a point of ignoring him. “It’s kind of cold in here,” he says, his voice a bit softer than usual. He makes a halfhearted attempt to wrap himself in fabric again, though the biologist holds up his left hand to still him.

“May I take a blood sample?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sheppard says. “Go nuts.” He holds out his left arm and the biologist presses a device against the skin of the inner aspect of his arm. “Ow,” he says, after the device ‘clicks.’ Sheppard’s skin is already healing before their eyes when the device is pulled away, the blood contained within a darker red than is expected for a human. Sheppard stares at it with trepidation and Todd smells his anxiety even more strongly.

“Do you require much else at this moment?” Todd asks.

“No, Commander,” the biologist answers. “Allow me to begin with this and I will inform you once I have it analyzed.”

“Very well.” Todd motions for Sheppard to accompany him from the lab, and the man moves to comply, gathering the fabric around himself once more like armour.

Then Sheppard pauses and turns back to the biologist. “Thank you,” Sheppard says sincerely, and the biologist seems momentarily taken aback at being thanked by a human, but he gives a solemn nod in response.

* * *

Sheppard follows Todd through the hive-ship corridors. He clutches the fabric tightly around himself, though he makes no attempt to cloak his face as he’d done while still in Atlantis. Todd suspects this is more to do with Sheppard’s desire to keep his vision unobstructed while in unfamiliar territory than that he minds less being stared at by Wraith than by humans. Sheppard’s movement is somewhat irregular on mismatched legs, and Todd catches a slight wince in his expression more than once as they travel.

“Are you in pain?”

Sheppard seems surprised by Todd’s concern. “No. Not… not _pain_ , really. Walking is kind of uncomfortable when your legs are different lengths though.”

Todd hums in sympathy. “We are nearing our destination and then you may rest.”

* * *

Eventually Todd leads them into a spacious set of rooms; there is a chaise lounge near to an alcove set into the far wall that Sheppard suspects is the Wraith version of a bed. It’s vaguely nest-like, strewn with an assortment of pillows and blankets, and he has to admit it looks fairly cozy. A sort of table rises up from the floor in the middle of the room, made of the same organic material as the walls and doors of the ship, as is a set of shelves that jut out from the wall close to the main door. On the far side of the room is another smaller door that Todd opens with a gesture, revealing a moderately-sized bathroom complete with a bathing pool.

As John looks around, he notices a variety of odds and ends that give the space a lived-in feel, and he wonders who might have previously made use of this room.

“These are my quarters,” Todd says, and John immediately tries to hide his trepidation. “You will be safe here,” Todd assures him. “Sleep. I have things to attend to, but I will return when I am able.” And as he makes to move towards the door, the faint presence of his mind retreats from John’s, leaving him feeling suddenly bereft.

“Wait,” John’s mouth says without consulting his brain.

Todd turns back. “Yes?”

“I — I…” John doesn’t know what to say. He’s afraid to ask for this, for Todd to know how much he’s affected by it. He’s afraid of how _right_ it feels. Mentally, he pokes at the space Todd’s absence creates, and perhaps Todd can feel that too because he tilts his head in consideration and instantly John feels his presence return. He sighs with relief.

Todd’s expression is kind. “We Wraith often feel a deficiency in the absence of our Hive-mates. I imagine Iratus are somewhat similar in this regard. Their nests usually contain a great many individuals.”

John knows this to be true, even though his experience of an Iratus nest was somewhat overshadowed by the Iratus instincts in the process of overtaking his mind at the time. “So… what do I do? How do I make it stop?”

Todd looks suddenly baffled, as if John instead asked him how to eschew breathing. “It is not a thing to be _stopped,”_ he says. “One must surround oneself with the minds of one’s brethren — those whose presence provides solace. Or, one must learn to cope with the feeling of emptiness.” His last words have a bitterness to them that leads John to believe Todd himself was forced to endure that emptiness during the many, _many_ years he was held captive by Kolya.

John takes a breath and rubs his hands over his face, jerking when the roughness of his mutated right hand catches on softer skin, and he stares mutinously down at the portions of his body that are barely even ‘his’ anymore. He can’t help but feel like a stranger in his own skin, like his very flesh betrays him at every turn, and now this _wanting_ in his mind is following suit. He makes a noise not unlike a sob, and suddenly he can’t slow his breathing. He feels as if the very walls of the hive ship itself are pressing in around him, and there’s nothing he can do to escape this. He’s a prisoner inside a body he barely recognizes — a body that _wants_ things he can’t help but find disturbing.

Todd’s hands come to rest on either side of John’s face, strange yellow eyes — eyes John now shares — glittering down at him, not in pity, but in sympathy. John feels Todd’s mind press in alongside his own, and he clings to that feeling, his very desperation calmed by Todd’s mental presence. Todd’s hands are softer than he’d have imagined, but for all his delicacy, Todd is still a _Wraith,_ and John suddenly wonders why he ever thought coming here — placing himself at Todd’s mercy — would be a good idea.

The expression on Todd’s face turns pained then, as if he’s privy to John’s thoughts on the matter — and maybe he _is,_ considering how their minds are joined presently. “Sheppard, I have no intention of causing you harm.” A clawed thumb strokes along John’s cheekbone, and suddenly all John can think about is the absurdity that a _Wraith_ is attempting to comfort him. His hyperventilation quickly shifts to uncontrollable laughter, but he’s been lacking adequate air now for several minutes and as a result his vision blurs and he sways nearly off his mismatched feet. Todd grabs him and sits him down on the alcove of his nest while Sheppard coughs and takes a moment to catch his breath.

“ _Fuck_. Why are you even helping me? Really?”

Todd sighs. “John Sheppard, have you forgotten that I have shared with you the Gift of Life? You are my _brother,_ and I would not leave you to suffer simply because you are human.”

“Not so human anymore,” John murmurs, leaning tiredly into Todd’s shoulder. “Thought you’d like that I’m more like you, now.”

“Perhaps,” Todd allows, and John really wishes he could read Todd as well as Todd seems to be able to read him. “So long as you are still _you.”_

Sheppard tries, and fails, to hold back a yawn. “Ah, Todd, I didn’t know you cared,” he says archly.

The corner of Todd’s mouth quirks in amusement. “There are many things about Wraith that you do not know, John Sheppard.” And it’s still mostly Todd’s arm around John that’s keeping him upright, but Todd gently eases him down to lie among the comforts of the nest, and it doesn’t escape John to notice the way Todd cards his fingers softly through his hair. “Would you prefer that I stay?”

“Yeah,” John says softly. He draws his own blanket more closely around him, as well as the silks and furs of Todd’s nest, figuring the less he’s forced to look at himself, the better.

“Very well,” Todd says, and he moves to retrieve a Wraith data pad from a shelf, settling himself with it upon the chaise lounge, presumably so he can work while he watches over Sheppard. The lights dim then too, likely also Todd’s doing, to aid in Sheppard’s pursuit of sleep.

John closes his eyes, relieved to still be able to feel Todd’s mental presence, and it’s not long before sleep claims him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know your thoughts!


	2. Hunger Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheppard deals with more symptoms of his 'condition,' Todd tries to be helpful, and maybe they arrive at a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to bagheerita for continuing to be the bestest beta ever.
> 
> I absolutely did not anticipate this chapter taking so long to get out, but John was really dragging his heels (or heel and bug toes?) on this one. Here's hoping chapter 3 will come more easily.

Todd doesn’t get as much work done as he’d have liked. He starts with his data pad, intending to inspect ship schematics and write the code for some minor subroutines that should enable greater optimization of certain functions, but he’s distracted by Sheppard’s fitful sleeping. He hadn’t anticipated that such anxiety would carry over into the colonel’s slumber, but it’s clearly manifested in the tossing and turning he observes, and the not so quiet gurgling that emanates from Sheppard’s midsection.

He realizes the only thing Sheppard brought with him was the blanket he’d used to conceal himself and the single boot that fits his left foot, and Todd considers that the provisions aboard his ship are ill-equipped to feed a human. He reaches his mind to connect with his Second, instructing him to request that Atlantis assemble some foodstuffs for their military commander, and to have said package made available to be retrieved by a dart Todd will send down to the city.

In Todd’s nest, Sheppard makes a low sound of discomfort, curling into the fetal position. He draws his right arm in towards himself, pressing the mutated limb in tightly to his chest, and Todd wonders about the functionality of the organ in Sheppard’s palm. Iratus do not have such anatomy; they siphon energy from their victims orally via their pharynx, not through a hand-mouth like those possessed by Wraith.

Using his data pad, he hooks into the communications terminal of the hive-ship and sends a message down to Atlantis, specifically to Dr. McKay’s lab. He inquires as to the details surrounding how Sheppard became reinfected with Iratus DNA, and then he sits back and waits for a response.

It seems Rodney isn’t sleeping either, as he responds in kind much more quickly than Todd had expected: Apparently Sheppard and his team had been cataloguing a supposedly Wraith research lab they’d stumbled upon, before realizing it belonged instead to Michael. He’d been experimenting with both Iratus and Wraith biological material, and one of his mutated Iratus specimens had broken free of its restraints, and had bitten Sheppard on the thigh before John and his team had managed to destroy it. According to McKay, Dr. Beckett had hypothesized that the introduction of Iratus tissue had reactivated some dormant component of the retrovirus that Sheppard had initially been infected with, causing the current changes to his physiology.

Todd’s lip curls at the thought of all the damage this Michael character has wrought, not only in this current scenario, but also with the modified Hoffan virus. Dr. McKay assures him that Michael is dead, though even in death it seems the aftereffects of his machinations are still being felt.

From over in the nest, Sheppard makes another sort of whimper, his body attempting to curl more completely into itself, and Todd fears his passive mental presence is no longer having the same comforting effect on his brother. He soothes his mind up close alongside Sheppard’s, revelling in the feel of him, and Sheppard seems to calm momentarily before Todd senses his mind coming fully awake.

“Mmm… Where…? Oh.” Sheppard seems momentarily disoriented, though recent events appear to quickly reassert themselves in his mind. “Todd?”

“I am here, Sheppard,” Todd says solicitously, moving from the lounge to sit gingerly by Sheppard’s side, over on the edge of the nest alcove. “What is your condition?”

Sheppard pauses to consider. “Sore,” he says. “And hungry.”

Todd cants his head at an angle. “When you say ‘hungry’ do you mean _Wraith_ hunger or _human_ hunger?”

“ _Food,_ Todd. Regular, human food,” Sheppard clarifies testily, and Todd supposes that crankiness as a symptom of hunger must be universal across species.

“Ah, I see,” Todd says. “I have contacted Atlantis to request that they send provisions for you. I believe the one I sent should be retrieving them shortly.”

“Thanks,” Sheppard says awkwardly. “I should really have packed a bag for myself. I kinda forgot to bring anything with me.”

“You had other concerns at the time. It is understandable.” Todd gazes at Sheppard, wondering what the texture of his skin feels like as it transitions from tan to blue.

“Okay, now you’re wigging me out. Would you stop staring at me? I might start to think you actually _like_ my face all fucked up like this.”

Todd huffs and hastily looks away.

“Oh my god, you _do!_ You _do_ , don’t you?” Sheppard sits up, squaring himself up before Todd, the look on his face incredulous.

Todd sighs and figures there’s no use in denying it, now that Sheppard’s called him out. “You are indeed quite beautiful like this, John, even though I know there are aspects you find troubling.”

“ _Troubling?_ Buddy, you sure have a talent for understatement.”

This time, Todd huffs in amusement. “Perhaps.” They regard each other quietly for a moment, and then Todd slowly raises his left hand towards Sheppard, reaching tentatively for the Iratus-tinged skin on his neck, fully prepared to pull away at the first sign of Sheppard’s discomfort. But Sheppard doesn’t flinch or recoil. He stares warily at Todd’s outstretched hand, but makes no move to avoid him. Todd’s hand slides gently along Sheppard’s neck, feeling that the warm skin is rougher than is typical for a human, though not displeasing. As his fingers progress further, he encounters the small, chitinous spikes adorning the side and back of Sheppard’s neck, and the feel of them is softer, less abrasive than he’d imagined. Sheppard’s breath is smooth on inhale, but a stuttering staccato on exhale, and Todd can sense the conflict in his mind — that Sheppard both enjoys the feel of Todd’s hand on his skin, and at the same time knows that he _shouldn’t._

Sheppard lists forward as Todd removes his hand, as if seeking to prolong contact, but then he seems to twitch out of his semi-daze and immediately looks away, gathering his blanket more protectively around himself. “Please tell me you didn’t bring me here just to keep me like this.”

“ _Sheppard,”_ Todd chastises. _“_ Of course not.” His reply is adamant, and as he soothes his mind alongside Sheppard’s, he does his best to impart the truth of his intentions. Todd is intimately familiar with what it is to have his very autonomy stolen from him — of being made to do the bidding of his captors. He finds the very thought of inflicting those same atrocities upon another to be utterly abhorrent.

Sheppard seems to relax, marginally, at that, though Todd senses the messenger at his door then and goes to answer it. Sure enough, one of his pilots is there carrying a large, black, human-made duffel bag of toughened canvas material.

“Commander,” the pilot says, bowing his head slightly in respect as he hands Todd the bag.

“Thank you,” Todd says, imparting his gratitude within the mind-sense and dismissing the Wraith. He brings the bag back into his quarters and mentally shuts the door. He hoists the bag up and sets it on the table. “Your people sent this for you,” he says, allowing Sheppard to explore the contents at his leisure.

Sheppard moves gingerly to the table and rummages through the bag one-handed, his malformed hand holding his blanket securely around himself. “Oh good, I’m starving,” Sheppard says, finding a tan package and extracting something from within which he calls a ‘sandwich.’ It takes him a moment to notice Todd’s scowl, but then his expression quickly turns sheepish. “Sorry. It’s just a figure of speech.”

Todd huffs as he sits across from Sheppard.

“Maybe not a very good one,” Sheppard considers.

Todd simply hums in agreement as he watches Sheppard sate his hunger. Eventually he turns back to his data pad and his coding of ship functions.

* * *

John eagerly tears into a turkey sandwich, two chocolate bars, an apple, a banana, and a package of blue jello. He admits it was probably insensitive to claim he was ‘starving’ in front of Todd, who had _actually_ been starving, probably for decades, when they’d first met. Though, in his own defence, he’s never felt quite this hungry before in his life. In fact, he’s _still_ hungry, and he rummages around for another food item when something inside him _lurches_ and suddenly he feels all sorts of wrong. He presses a hand to his mouth, and then he’s up and making a break for the bathroom, heaving and emptying the contents of his stomach into what he really hopes is some sort of toilet. Instantly, Todd is crouched by his side, hand soothing along his back as John’s body spasms a second time, vomiting up the very dregs of the food he’d just eaten. The third instance produces only bile, but after that John’s body seems to calm down and he catches his breath with his forehead resting against his arm, wiping his mouth on the back of his other hand.

“I don’t understand,” Sheppard whines, the hunger once again subsuming every part of his being. “The fuck is wrong with me?”

Todd reaches for a mechanism that sucks the contents of the receptacle away into the bowels of the ship, and then regards John with a sympathetic expression. He sighs. “Do you feel hunger here?” he asks, touching his hand to Sheppard’s belly. “Or do you feel it here?” and this time he touches Sheppard’s right hand. “All Wraith go through this change,” he explains, “during our transition from adolescence into adulthood. The only difference being that Wraith are incapable of regurgitation. It is a holdover we share with Iratus; their larval stage exists underground where they drink the sap from tree roots, before metamorphosing into adults that feed off the life force of other creatures.”

John stares up at Todd in horror, shaking his head from side to side in denial of his words. “ _No.”_ he insists. “No, no, no… I can’t. I _won’t.”_

“Then you will die,” Todd says baldly, his expression sad. “And you will die in what Wraith consider to be one of the cruelest ways possible.”

John would be lying if he claimed that thought didn’t frighten him. He thinks back to when he first met Todd — how weak and exhausted the Wraith was that two Genii soldiers had to help support him when he was first brought to feed on Sheppard. The pain and despair in Todd’s eyes that had obviously been there for _years_. John does not want that to be his future. “Promise me you’ll end it if it gets bad — that you’ll kill me if I ask you to.”

At first Todd looks stricken, and Sheppard is worried he’ll outright refuse. But then the line of his mouth sets, and his eyes harden, and he gives a short, curt nod, as if he doesn’t quite trust his voice to be reliable in this moment.

“Here’s hoping you can fix me before we get to that point.” Sheppard means for his words to be irreverent, perhaps humorous even, but they end up closer to foreboding.

Todd sighs, but his demeanour remains determined. “Come,” he says, rising to his feet and offering his left hand to Sheppard. “We will see what the Master of Sciences Biological has discovered thus far.”

John takes Todd’s hand and maybe shouldn’t be surprised at the ease with which he is hauled to his feet, considering how much stronger Wraith are than humans. His other hand is still clutching the blanket around himself, and Todd eyes it with something akin to irritation or distaste.

“Do you not mind the encumbrance of remaining so thoroughly covered?”

John bristles. “My clothes don’t exactly fit anymore,” he says angrily, motioning with frustration to the exoskeletal plates and ridges of his changed flesh, particularly that of his right hip and thigh, as well as his right forearm and shoulder. He realizes Todd doesn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his emotion, but the addition of his unsatisfied hunger is making him belligerent. He takes a breath and tries to calm himself. “… And I’d rather not see myself like this if I don’t have to,” he adds.

“Hmm.” Todd thinks for a moment and then steps around Sheppard to a cabinet from which he withdraws a soft-looking pair of pants and a tunic-like long-sleeved shirt. “These should be large enough to accommodate the changes, though if they are not I can procure others.”

John takes the garments in his good hand — the charcoal material feels like silk — and he lets the blanket slip from his shoulders, sliding his mutated arm tentatively into one sleeve of the tunic, and then donning the rest when the first arm meets no resistance. The fit isn’t terrible, and he can move unrestricted, which he suspects is the best he can hope for considering his present asymmetry. The pants are still a bit long, even for the more Iratus of his two legs — goddamn Todd for being so tall — but John folds the waistband over which seems to help a bit. He looks up and realizes Todd has been staring at him this entire time. He flushes slightly, and something in him flutters. He’s never seen quite this type of hunger in Todd’s expression before.

“Um, thanks for the clothes,” Sheppard says awkwardly, and Todd blinks, then motions with his left hand as if to imply that Sheppard’s gratitude is not necessary.

“Come with me, we shall see what has been learned,” he says, motioning for Sheppard to precede him out into the ship corridor, back towards the biologist’s lab.

* * *

“I don’t understand why Michael would do something like this,” Sheppard says as they traverse the winding passages of the hive ship. “Teyla said he had eliminated the dependance on human feeding in himself and his hybrids, so I don’t get why…?” He looks at his right hand — the Iratus-mutated one with the almost hand-mouth in his palm.

“Perhaps the lab in question contained his earlier work?” Todd speculates. “Or perhaps there are unintended side effects caused by the remnants of your retrovirus.” Todd looks sideways at Sheppard, considering. “There is a very simple solution to the most immediate of your predicaments, you realize…” Sheppard was adamant in his desire _not_ to feed earlier, though Todd still hopes he can persuade him otherwise.

Sheppard looks up from his hand, at first confused, but then he seems to understand what Todd means. “ _No,”_ he says, emphatically. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”

Todd scoffs. “You are already a killer, John. You kill in aid of your own survival all the time; in aid of your people. I have seen it. I have killed with you, alongside you. Do not delude yourself that this is any different.”

“Of course it’s different! This isn’t a combat scenario — no one’s threatening me or the safety of my people.”

“ _Death_ threatens you, as it does my people always. When I offer you prey from my hold, consider that your refusal will not result in the release of said prey; these are individuals that, for all intents and purposes, have already met their end.” Todd knows he is working against Sheppard’s own innate sense of virtue; a sense which he usually admires greatly, but that is now an impediment to John’s own well-being. Todd tries for abstractions, though he can’t help but admire Sheppard’s conviction, even as he hates the decision it causes his brother to make.

“Maybe not,” John says, “but that’s one less person taken during your next cull if they go towards feeding a Wraith instead of me.” He pauses a moment. “Also, I just don’t think I could _make_ myself do it. Even if I wanted to. Which I _don’t.”_

Todd sighs wearily and turns to grasp Sheppard by the shoulders, halting both of their steps. He makes sure Sheppard meets his gaze before he speaks. “I know what it is to starve, Sheppard. To be utterly consumed by hunger and have no way to ease that pain. I do not want that for you.” He cups the side of Sheppard’s face in his off-hand. “I would help you, if you required it.”

“I _can’t.”_ Sheppard emphasizes again. “I would hate myself if I did.”

Todd can’t help but feel his brother’s words as if they were a physical blow. He scowls. “As you hate me and my kind?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Sheppard says angrily, shaking Todd off. “I don’t hate you,” he says quietly, a moment later. “What you have to do to live, maybe. But… not _you_.”

“Mmm.” Todd’s eyes narrow, but he turns to continue walking in the direction of the lab, and Sheppard follows. “Consider how exactly you might qualify that distinction,” he says somewhat unkindly.

* * *

“This is very interesting,” the biologist says, pulling up the results of John’s blood analysis on a console screen.

John stands next to Todd in the biologist’s lab as he goes over his findings, but everything is in Wraith language, which to him might as well be Greek. He keeps trying to shift his weight from one foot to the other, in an attempt to relieve the strain he feels from trying to balance on legs of two different lengths, but the biologist’s next words entirely steal his focus.

“Where I expected to find two separate genetic profiles, I instead found three.”

“ _What?_ What do you mean _three?”_ John exclaims. “What’s the third one?”

The biologist huffs. “As expected, the human genetic material is predominant, though both Iratus _and_ Wraith material are also present.”

“Wraith…” John murmurs, thinking fast. “Of course, that would probably explain the…” he motions to the almost hand-mouth in his mutated palm. “And…” he looks hesitantly up at Todd.

“Your hunger,” Todd agrees.

The biologist’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of them, taking in this new information. “I have consulted with your Dr. Beckett,” he says to Sheppard. “I hypothesized — and he agrees — that he was unsuccessful in treating you because the two lines of code are bound up within each other and must be individually isolated before either can be excised.”

“‘Lines of code,’ what am I, a computer program?”

“ _Genetic_ code,” the biologist clarifies.

John mumbles a sheepish “ _Oh.”_ Then he takes a bracing breath. “So you think you can reverse this?”

“Theoretically, I believe so.”

John breathes a desperate and audible sigh of relief. In his darkest nightmares, he’s imagined himself stuck like this forever, but now he has hope that flares brightly in his chest. It is the loveliest feeling.

“The main variable of concern,” the scientist continues, “being which of the two foreign profiles you desire to be excised first, as I suspect there may be differing ramifications depending on which material is allowed to, temporarily, remain integrated within your system.”

John squints. “I’m not sure I follow…?”

“For example, if you choose to address the Iratus elements first, those features and symptoms should subside, though it is possible, dare I say even _likely,_ that the Wraith elements would be amplified in their absence.” The biologist eyes him critically, as if to be sure John is fully cognizant of what’s being imparted. “Conversely, excising the Wraith elements first would likely cause the Iratus elements to be amplified instead.”

John thinks for a moment. He is desperate to be free of this horrible hunger. It gnaws, burning at his insides, and he’s maybe acquired a bit of sympathy for Wraith, being forced to take human lives to alleviate such a dreadfully wretched sensation. “So, other than my personal preference, there’s no advantage to doing either one first?”

“I would not think so, no,” the biologist says.

“Okay. Um, okay, let me think about it a bit?” John realizes he’s been leaning against a table for some time now, and he stumbles slightly as he regains his footing, shuffling quickly out the door, barely registering the biologist’s replied ‘Of course.’ He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly in such a hurry to be out of there, but emerging into the corridor immediately relaxes him somehow, though his body still aches terribly. Gingerly, he lowers himself to the ground, leaning his back against the give of the organic wall, though he’s aggrieved to discover the position only minimally alleviates his discomfort.

Todd appears a moment later, though he doesn’t immediately notice John. “Sheppard?”

“I’m here,” John says, and Todd whirls around, looks down, and exhales upon finding him.

“Have you reached a decision?” Todd asks. He remains standing. Even when John is also upright he has to look _up_ at Todd, but from his position on the floor he has to crane his neck back quite a ways to bring him into view.

“I’m trying to,” Sheppard says. “I know I should be looking at this logically, but my mind is all over the place.” He’s distracted both by pain and by hunger; things his body is screaming at him to focus on to the exclusion of all else. “What do you think I should do?”

Todd looks somewhat taken aback. “You would seek my opinion?”

“Why not? You’ve been pretty helpful so far. Maybe even more than my own people.”

Todd sighs. “Do not discount your friends’ intentions simply because their ability is lacking. They still care for you.”

Sheppard casts an appraising eye at the Wraith Commander. “I think you do too, don’t you?”

There’s a wry quirk to Todd’s mouth. “I should think that was obvious.”

Sheppard grins. “I was thinking Iratus first. I just want to be _me_ again, and not to hurt every time I have to stand or move somewhere, but then this godforsaken hunger has me leaning Wraith instead, it’s so absolutely horrible. I honestly don’t know how you live with it.”

“You know _exactly_ how we live with it,” Todd says pointedly.

Sheppard sighs, the weariness setting into his bones. “So? What do you think?”

“I think you are in too much pain right now to focus on anything I would say.”

“Maybe,” Sheppard allows, though a hiss escapes his lips when he tries to shift his weight, preparing to stand. Todd leans down, gently wrapping his arms around Sheppard’s malformed body to assist him, and together they manage to achieve an upright posture. Sheppard’s hips and back are still aflame, and he leans into Todd as they progress slowly but steadily down the corridor, back towards Todd’s quarters.

John reflects that he should probably be more concerned than he is that a Wraith’s hands are pressed so close to his skin. But this is _Todd._ It hasn’t escaped Sheppard in his role as military commander how his underlings — particularly the marines — like to refer to Todd when they think no one’s listening; they call him _‘Colonel Sheppard’s Wraith.’_ And maybe Todd has become that, or maybe he always was, but Sheppard admits the unofficial title doesn’t bother him as much as it probably should. Somehow he doubts Todd himself would be too bothered by it either.

John is exhausted by the time they make it back to Todd’s rooms, the hunger still a burning emptiness inside him, and he is grateful to end up back in Todd’s nest, though Todd coaxes him to lie on his front. His sits on the edge of the alcove by John’s hip, his hand a lukewarm weight against the small of John’s back. 

“Sheppard, may I help ease your pain?”

“Uh, sure? Ah, just not, um…” and John shoots an apprehensive look at Todd’s feeding hand, worried that he intends to impart the Gift of Life, which John’s maybe not so willing to accept considering where he knows the healing energy comes from.

Todd seems to make sense of his ramblings, perhaps aided by their minds being in near constant contact, and his smile exposes his wickedly sharp teeth. “Nothing so invasive, I assure you.”

“Okay,” John says, and then Todd’s strong hands are digging into the muscles of his hips and back, and at first he jerks in surprise, and then does his best not to squirm away from the pressure, which itself is painful, but which he knows will be beneficial in the long run. “Shit!” John exclaims, as Todd’s thumb repeatedly circles a particularly tender pressure point. He tries not to tear the bedding gripped in his hands as he attempts to ride out the sensation, but then the knot in the muscle gives way and Todd’s thumb shifts elsewhere, a pleasurable warmth flooding into the muscle group. John exhales sharply in relief until Todd repeats the process, this time pressing into a spot low on John’s hip with his thumb, while his fingers reach around to attack the corresponding spot on John’s front. “Jesus Christ, Todd, I know Wraith can’t bruise, but humans _can_ , and I’m gonna be black and blue tomorrow if you don’t lighten up a bit.”

“You are already blue, Sheppard,” Todd says, and John can _hear_ the smirk in his voice. Todd does soften the pressure exerted by his hands a bit though.

“Ugh. You know, you’re not half as funny as you think you are.” But Todd chuckles at his own joke anyways, and Sheppard hides his grin in the pillows of the nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers run on comments from readers, so please, if you can spare a moment, jot something down or tell us what parts you liked best. We very much appreciate it and it often makes our day! Cheers!


	3. The Hand That Feeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John enters the first phase of treatment and Todd does his best to help with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to bagheerita for continuing to be a first class beta reader, as well as to all who endeavour to show their support by commenting with feedback. You guys keep my muse going strong.

John does not want to move. He feels like Todd’s taken his aching body apart muscle fibre by muscle fibre and then put him back together again, and he’s still reeling from it. Though, currently the pain he’s experiencing is a good pain, a healing pain, whereas previously he was in agony. He feels warm all over, which is an uncommon experience onboard a Wraith hive ship.

Though beneath everything else he feels is the constant thrum of _hunger,_ burning hotly at his core, and there’s nothing he can do — or rather, there’s nothing he’s _willing_ to do — to make it subside. It’s inescapable and he _hates_ it.

Stubbornly, he props himself up on his forearms from where he lies facedown in Todd’s nest, and looks at Todd where he’s seated on the chaise lounge, expression contemplative.

“You’ve said your choices are mainly between the physical pain of the Iratus and the pain of Wraith hunger,” Todd says in his strange, multi-tonal voice that lately is seeming less and less strange to Sheppard’s ears. “However, there is another potentiality which I am concerned you may have overlooked.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Sheppard has a sudden sinking feeling in his gut.

Todd cants his head to the side, his yellow eyes gleaming in the light. “Should you decide to rid yourself of the Wraith material before that of the Iratus, and the Iratus temporarily reasserts itself, is there not a chance that you could be overcome by Iratus instincts?”

That sinking feeling doesn’t go away, and Sheppard remembers the experience of just such an occurrence from the first time he’d been accidentally infected by the retrovirus. He remembers warning Elizabeth to stay away, and then becoming violent when she ignored him. “And what about the possibility of being taken over by Wraith instincts?” he tries to deflect, as his skin crawls from the memory.

Todd scoffs. “I would not think that would be an issue any more than the possibility of being overcome by human instincts,” he says pointedly. “Wraith and humans are not driven by our instincts to nearly the same degree that Iratus are.”

“Okay. I guess that’s good, then,” Sheppard says, though his words lack any feeling.

Todd continues to observe Sheppard, his gaze shrewd. “What are you thinking?”

John shakes his head. “I don’t want to lose myself again. I don’t want to wake up remembering things my body did while I wasn’t… _me_.” As much as he’d like to be able to forget assaulting Teyla, choking Elizabeth, he just _can’t._ Those instances are seared upon his memory in indelible ink.

“Then it seems your mind is made up, yes?”

“Maybe.” John rests his head in his hands. “Ugh, this fucking hunger,” he mutters. He wants to scream. Somehow Todd’s respectful stillness is pissing him off. “Yeah, okay, let’s go with that. Iratus first. I’ll just suffer through this for a few days and then it’ll be over.”

“You are _sure?”_

“ _Yes!_ Fuck. You must be like the only Wraith in the galaxy who gives a shit about informed consent.”

Todd’s eyes narrow and his expression turns cold. “Often, it is only after you’ve been deprived of a thing that you realize its importance.” And John wants to kick himself because clearly that’s a reference to Todd’s years and years of imprisonment at the hands of the Genii. He’s not sure why he keeps forgetting these aspects of Todd’s history. Maybe because Todd is typically such a stoic and unflappable figure, and John’s never seen him let anything impede his competency.

“Shit. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just…” He feels so many things it’s exhausting. “Really, though, thank you for doing this. I’d probably have eaten a bullet by now if you hadn’t.”

Todd looks confused. “I do not understand. What is the purpose of consuming ammunition?”

Sheppard gives an amused snort. “It’s a figure of speech.” His expression sobers. “It means I would have killed myself.”

The stricken expression on Todd’s face has John a bit unsettled. “You will do no such thing,” he says adamantly, moving to sit on the edge of the alcove by John’s hip, as if his very presence will prevent John from doing anything rash. Instantly, Sheppard feels the brush of Todd’s mind alongside his own, pressing a bit more closely than he had previously done, and Sheppard can’t help but bask in the comfort Todd provides. His whole body relaxes and he closes his eyes. It feels like the warmth of the sun on his skin.

“Well, I don’t need to _now,”_ John murmurs drowsily. “You told your scientist guy about the Iratus thing?” Sometimes he can tell when Todd’s communicating telepathically and sometimes he can’t.

“Yes,” Todd says. “He will bring the treatment here to administer it as soon as it is completed.”

“Mm, okay, that’s good.” He cracks an eye open at Todd, still leaning over him like a protective gargoyle, and then closes it. “I’m gonna try to sleep a bit.”

“Yes, rest, Sheppard,” Todd agrees, and then John feels long fingers stroking through his hair and down his back. At any other time, he’d have snapped at Todd for invading his personal space, but right now it’s just another layer of _nice_ he’s feeling, so he lets it go.

* * *

John wakes to the sound of the door to Todd’s quarters hissing softly open. He cracks an eye to observe and watches as Todd’s head biologist enters. Todd welcomes him in and then the pair of them engage in what must be a completely telepathic conversation. Neither of them says a word, but there are nods, and head-tilts, and soft hums and clicks that sound like they might add some sort of inflexion. It makes the list of the weirdest things John’s ever seen, which is a _lot_ since arriving in the Pegasus Galaxy.

“Sheppard. I know you are awake,” Todd says suddenly, and John twitches and flushes slightly at being called out.

“Goddamn telepaths,” he mutters under his breath, pushing himself up from his prone position, though from the slight smirk of Todd’s mouth, John thinks he might have heard that too.

Fortunately, the biologist strides forward then, drawing a cylindrical contraption about as long as his hand from within his coat. “I have completed your first treatment,” he says, and John figures the contraption must be some sort of injectable device. “Are you ready for me to administer it now?”

“Yeah.” John nods, offering his arm, which the biologist takes in one large, clawed hand, and then presses the device to Sheppard’s skin with the other. Theres a soft ‘click,’ and a sharp sting, and then it’s done, with hardly even a drop of blood lost. John looks at his arm and then back up at the two Wraith. “How long will it take?”

The biologist tilts his head in consideration. “How long did your initial conversion take to fully progress?”

“A couple days?” John shrugs. “Maybe a little longer?” He wonders if he should be able to feel it working.

“Then I would expect the treatment to take about that long as well.” John nods, and then the biologist turns towards Todd. “Commander, with your permission, I would take my leave to begin work on the second treatment phase.”

“Of course,” Todd says, inclining his head. “See that you do.”

The biologist bows and turns to make a graceful retreat, though before he goes, he says to Sheppard, “I would advise you to attempt to sleep through as much of the change as you are able.” And then Todd’s doors shut behind him with another soft hiss.

Todd makes his way back to John, sitting across from him on the lounge while he fixes the colonel with an inquiring expression.

“I don’t feel any different,” Sheppard says with a shrug. “If it’s anything like the first time, it’ll be a few hours before any changes start.” He hunkers down, settling himself once more amidst the blankets of the nest, figuring he’d also benefit from sleeping away the hunger as well as the change.

“Sleep, then,” Todd says. “I will be here.”

* * *

When he wakes, John can’t be sure of how long he’s slept for. There is no day-night cycle aboard the hive ship, only the same dim lighting that creates a sort of omnipresent gloaming. And unlike human-made vessels, there are no windows either, so he can’t see the relative position of the sun to the planet below.

Sheppard tries to take stock of his body, but he doesn’t see or feel much that’s different, though the hunger is still there, stronger than ever. He sits up and notices that Todd is asleep, his long body folded awkwardly on the lounge with his head resting in his arms and his neck at an angle that Sheppard can’t imagine is comfortable. Gingerly, Sheppard rises and steps over to lay a hand gently on a leather-clad shoulder.

Todd’s name is barely past his lips when suddenly clawed fingers are around his throat and a larger, stronger body than his own forces him backwards, trapping him against the wall.

“Todd! _Todd!”_

 _“Sheppard?”_ Todd’s hands instantly release him. “Apologies,” he rasps. “I…” He looks around, suddenly at a loss for words.

“You were sleeping,” Sheppard says, and he sees the comprehension coalesce in Todd’s eyes.

“I apologize,” he says again. “Have I hurt you?” His hands hover at his sides as if they might prove useful as anything other than weapons.

“I don’t think so,” says Sheppard. “Just got my adrenaline going is all. Warn a guy, next time, eh? Shit.” And he goes to sit on the edge of the nest alcove to catch his breath.

“Was there something you required?”

“Huh? Oh. No, I just didn’t think you looked very comfortable, is all. Didn’t want you to wake up with a crick in your neck.”

“Do not trouble yourself. You are more in need of rest than I am at the moment. Tissue remodelling is strenuous work at best, let alone when the subject refuses to replenish his energy stores.” He looks pointedly at Sheppard.

“What?”

Todd clears his throat. “You are refusing to feed, and thus you have a greater requirement for rest than you would otherwise. As such, I would not want to impose…”

Sheppard follows his line of sight to the bed and realizes Todd slept on the lounge because Sheppard is currently occupying his bed. He considers that the space is likely large enough to accommodate even three Wraith, so there’d be more than enough room for him and Todd to share without crowding each other. “I’m not sure I’d call it ‘imposing’ when it’s your bed to begin with. Really, I’m gonna be sleeping anyways, so what do I care?” He blanches at how callous that sounds. “I mean, look, you’re helping me through this… this _thing,_ but there’s no reason you should put yourself out along the way.” He realizes he’s not actually disturbed by the thought of being in greater proximity to Todd — Todd’s already been in his personal space quite a bit during this whole affair — and he wonders if part of that at least isn’t due to the bits of Wraith and Iratus that have almost certainly infiltrated his brain, or if this is actually all _him._ Does part of him actually _want_ to be closer to Todd? Really, it’s the not knowing that bothers him most.

“Very well,” Todd says, and he approaches slowly, perhaps wary that he might spook Sheppard, but then he pauses. “Sheppard, your skin… The blue is lessened.”

“Really?” John touches his face and neck, eagerly sliding his fingers over his skin before realizing the blue isn’t something he can detect by touch. His hands fall uselessly away.

“Here,” Todd says, reaching hesitantly to touch Sheppard’s jaw. “Here it is gone completely,” he says, and then his fingers skim down the skin of John’s neck. “Here it reaches only halfway.”

Sheppard’s eyes close and he breathes such a sigh of relief it’s nearly a sob. _It’s working._ “You have no idea how much I’d — I thought I’d never —” He struggles to articulate his thoughts, but it’s all coming out jumbled, and suddenly he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Shhhh.” Todd settles his hands on Sheppard’s shoulders. “You must rest. Conserve what energy you have and let your body do what it needs to.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Sheppard lies back down in the nest and scoots towards the inner wall of the alcove, lying on his front. He closes his eyes and listens to the soft rustling of whatever Todd is doing, and then he feels a gentle dip in the surface of the nest. When he opens his eyes, Todd is lying a good foot and a half from him at the outer edge of the nest. He must have removed his coat, as his arms are now bared by the sleeveless charcoal tunic he wears, and John realizes he’s never seen Todd out of his coat other than that one time he was forced into a flight suit by the Daedalus crew. He doesn’t see any scars on Todd’s skin — he’s not even sure Wraith _can_ scar, what with their healing abilities — but he wonders about what horrors Todd’s hide would convey, if it could, of his time imprisoned by Kolya.

“I’m sorry I startled you before,” Sheppard says softly. “The way you woke up, was that because of something Kolya did?” He wonders if Wraith are affected by PTSD, and how they go about dealing with it, if they are.

Todd makes an aggravated sound. “Must we discuss this now?”

“No. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I very much do not wish to speak of it.”

“Okay.” John is quiet for a moment. “He’s dead, by the way. Kolya. I killed him. Just thought you might want to know.”

Todd’s eyes snap open then, his piercing gaze fixing intently on Sheppard. “I am pleased to hear it.” There’s a fire in Todd’s eyes that makes Sheppard shiver, but after a moment he shuts them again, relaxing back into the nest. John resolves to do the same, snuggling deeper into the blankets and pillows and letting his exhaustion wash over him as he listens to the soft, slow sound of Todd breathing.

* * *

John can’t remember the last time he’d slept so long. He’s not really quite sure _how_ long, mind you, but it certainly feels like an age. As his consciousness surfaces, he gradually becomes aware of a soft, persistent vibration that threatens to lull him back off into slumber, but he resolves to open his eyes, and is greeted to a sight he’d never thought he’d see in a million years. His forehead is pressed against Todd’s shoulder, just as the Wraith’s nose seems to be buried in Sheppard’s hair, and he figures they must have migrated towards each other at some point in the night. Also, it’s quickly apparent that the vibration he’s experiencing is Todd purring softly in his sleep, and who knew Wraith could purr at all to begin with?

And so now John finds himself faced with a dilemma: he can either go back to sleep, snuggled up as he is with a Wraith, or he can risk waking Todd again and hope he doesn’t react in a similar manner as before. But as he’s considering his options, he realizes there’s something nice, something _comforting,_ about having Todd so close like this. It’s a closeness he hasn’t had in a long time; that closeness one person can have with another whom they trust and respect. He’d had it with his wife, Nancy, at least in the beginning anyway, before their relationship deteriorated, ultimately ending in divorce. It’s something John misses, though he hasn’t realized how intensely he’d missed it until this moment.

That plus the fact that it’s currently paired with the warmth of Todd’s mind alongside his own makes him loathe to push Todd away so quickly. And there’s another thought John turns over and over in his head: how is it that he’s grown so comfortable with Todd’s mind in almost constant contact with his own? He never imagined such a thing could feel so soothing, and he wonders if this too is an artifact of his not-entirely-human state, or if it is indeed a genuine reaction on his part. Regardless, he can’t help but want more of it.

Tentatively, John edges closer, and is happily surprised to have Todd reciprocate, snuffling his face against the top of John’s head, stretching an arm out to lay a long-fingered hand overtop of John’s ribs. He’s so close that John can smell the faint earthy scent of him, like a forest after rain.

“ _Shepparrrd…”_ Todd murmurs into John’s hair before resuming his purr, and there’s an accompanying thrum of pleasure that washes over Sheppard’s mind simultaneously, as if he can feel what he supposes Todd himself is feeling.

John knows he’s always been Todd’s favourite out of all the Atlantis expedition members — maybe even out of all humans — likely due to the partnership they forged in order to escape Kolya’s prison. But he’d never suspected Todd could hold this level of… affection for him. It’s oddly flattering, especially from a Wraith of Todd’s rank and influence, though somewhere in the back of his brain, beneath the comfort and the pleasure, John has the sneaking suspicion he should instead be somewhat discomfited by such a thing…

Then suddenly the fingers on John’s person tighten, gripping into his flesh, and the purring ceases. Todd’s eyes snap open and his body tenses like a coiled spring. But Todd relaxes slowly, seemingly once he realizes where he is and who he’s with, though the longer he scrutinizes Sheppard, the softer his expression becomes.

“I have a dream like this, occasionally,” he rasps, his hand lifting from Sheppard’s ribs to instead frame his face, his thumb skimming over Sheppard’s cheekbone. “Where you are my consort as well as the most trusted among my Hive. But I never imagined…” His fingers trail deftly over Sheppard’s cheek, and John’s beginning to worry because Todd’s never ever looked at him quite like _this_ before.

“ _What?_ What in the world are you talking about?”

Todd seems momentarily at a loss for an explanation, but then he leans his torso a bit farther over Sheppard, firmly meeting his gaze, and John is somehow gifted with a mental image of himself as he appears through Todd’s eyes.

There is no longer any trace of blue on his body, nor any Iratus plates, spines, or scales that he can see. Instead, the skin of the lower, right side of his face is of the palest jade, and inhumanly smooth. It’s the skin of a Wraith, and it spreads all the way down the right side of his neck. At least his hair is still its usual colour, though his eyes are as yet unchanged, still yellow with slitted pupils, which makes sense as everything he sees still looks slightly off. He touches his face to confirm what Todd shows him, and only then does he realize his right hand is also fully Wraith, complete with claws and a now properly-formed feeding organ. Though it is indeed an improvement over the gnarled Iratus limb he’d previously possessed, the sight of a Wraith hand-mouth in his palm makes John’s skin crawl and he scoots back from Todd, sitting up properly to examine himself. His right leg seems to be still in the flux of the change, halfway between the insectoid Iratus limb and the more humanoid anatomy of a Wraith. It is still longer enough than his other human leg as to impede his mobility, unless he wants to revisit the muscle pain Todd had recently relieved him of.

“I guess this is still mostly an improvement,” Sheppard says drily, though suddenly the hunger hits him harder and more sharply than he’s experienced thus far, and he’s unable to bite back an anguished whine in response. “Oh, god, I take it back, this is so much worse.” He curls his body tightly inwards, hugging his right arm to his chest, inadvertently pressing his cheek to Todd’s shoulder. “God dammit, it _burns!”_

“The hunger?”

“ _Yes,_ the hunger! Fuck.”

Todd sighs. “Sheppard, you _must_ feed. Shall I bring you to the hold?” And he slides an arm beneath Sheppard’s knees, clearly prepared to carry him there if need be.

“Don’t you dare!” John’s breathing is faster now, and somewhat irregular, but Todd respects his wishes and removes his arm. “It’s just another day or two, right? Until I can have the second shot?”

“Assuming the treatment can be completed by then, yes.”

Sheppard makes a ragged sound. “I can… I can last that long. I have to. God, you lasted _years_ like this? _Decades?”_

“Yes,” Todd says grimly, and the depth of Sheppard’s respect for Todd increases profoundly.

“How? How did you do it?”

“I am very old, even for a Wraith,” Todd says. “I have lived with this hunger a very long time, and have, perhaps, grown accustomed to the pain of it.”

“Ugh, that is both fucked up and incredibly unhelpful.”

“Yes. I am sorry.” Todd runs his hand soothingly up and down Sheppard’s arm. “Sheppard, please, I must insist that you feed. I do not wish to see you in pain like this.”

John looks up at him thoughtfully. “Would you feed on another Wraith if you were in a similar position?”

“ _Yes,”_ Todd replies emphatically. “If they were not of my Hive, of course I would.”

“Maybe that’s the difference between us,” Sheppard speculates. “We value _all_ human life, not just the lives of our friends and families. Or, at least, we try to.” He won’t pretend to do the same for the Genii, for instance, though he still can’t imagine feeding on one if they suddenly appeared.

Todd shakes his head in frustration. “I value _your_ life!”

Something warm blooms in Sheppard’s gut, and it’s not his hunger. He can’t help but enjoy the proprietary level of care Todd has shown him. He’s missed that sense of belonging that happens when one person is so intensely focused on another. John always regretted that he could no longer provide that for Nancy, if he ever really had, the way she initially did for him. It’s his team, lately, that fill that function for him, along with the other Atlantis personnel, but it’s still not quite the same as a partnership of two.

John sighs wearily. “And I’m grateful for that, really, but you can’t just…” His train of thought is derailed then by his exhaustion, and he sinks back down into the nest. Todd echoes his posture, the Wraith’s physicality seemingly oriented to that of Sheppard. “I don’t have the head for this right now,” Sheppard says. “Can we argue about it later?”

Todd grumbles his acquiescence. “Very well. Though, this is assuming you will _have_ a ‘later,’ given your refusal to feed.” Todd’s arm curls around him again and Sheppard feels long fingers stroking down his back, the faint scratch of claws oddly lulling.

“Don’t think you can get rid of me so easily,” John murmurs, shutting his eyes again, and he feels more than hears Todd hum lowly in the back of his throat.

“The last thing I wish is to be rid of you, John Sheppard.”

John doesn’t respond. He’s too focused on the feel of Todd’s touch, and the press of his mental presence, and he clings to the sensation of those stimuli because without them the only thing he’d be able to feel is _hunger._

* * *

Sheppard next wakes in a daze, his hunger at the forefront of his mind, and he finds it excruciatingly difficult to focus on anything else. He does notice the absence of both Todd’s mental presence and of Todd himself, and he never could have predicted that such a loss would leave him feeling so bereft.

He lurches shakily to his feet, and only briefly notices that his legs are both finally the same length. His right is now the mirror of his left in every way that he can see except for the Wraith skin and the dark, pointed toenails, which are still a vast improvement over the Iratus features.

He moves as if in a trance, driven by the hunger that burns in every atom of his being, though he is weak and shaky, one hand skimming the walls for support. How he convinces the door to admit him is a mystery, but he does, and then he’s moving through the corridors with singular purpose, following some instinct he can’t identify, guided by senses he barely understands. Perhaps it’s a scent he’s following, though somehow it feels like more than that; a beacon of warmth in the otherwise chilly hive.

Finally, he feels he’s reached his destination, and he stops to lean against the corridor wall, catching his breath as he takes in the veritable feast of warmth that surrounds him. He gazes at the seemingly endless collection of compartments filled with the sweetness his body craves, and for a moment he’s overwhelmed by how many there are to choose from. They are all delicious to his senses — how can he decide upon just a single one?

Exhaustion necessitates that he select the compartment closest to himself, and he does so eagerly, leaning against the sloped façade. He has just enough strength to use his clawed hand to tear through the silken webbing of the cocoon, though the material is tougher than it first appears. He revels in anticipation for the moment he will thrust his feeding hand into the compartment and draw forth the sustenance he so gravely requires, when suddenly the webbing peels away and there’s a _face_ staring back at him. A _human_ face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry-not-sorry for the cliffhanger! Hopefully you won't have to wait too long for the next bit!


	4. No Such Thing as a Free Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Todd both finally break down, each in their own way, and there are shared revelations about their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to bagheerita, my beta of betas, and also to AnonMadSci for essentially writing one of Sheppard's lines.

Todd does not wish to leave Sheppard alone, but one of his crew alerts him to a coding error he must see to himself. Currently, John is deep in sleep, and Todd has already been working on the inevitable upgrade for this eventuality, so he supposes he can likely have this done and dealt with, and be back before Sheppard ever realizes he’s gone. Or so he hopes.

Though, in actuality, he’s completed the installation and is just about to instigate the reinitialization of the new programming when he feels the disturbance in the hive-sense as other members of his crew alert him to the fact that Sheppard is roaming the ship. Currently, he was last seen heading for the hold, and Todd instantly drops what he’s doing and heads for the location in question.

* * *

There’s a moment between when Sheppard sees the human face — feminine, mid forties, blue eyes, brown hair, crows feet — and when he actually recognizes it for what it is, inwhich time seems to slow to a crawl. When it finally resumes its typical pace, his realization has him flinging himself instantly away from the cocoon in horror. In his panic, he trips over his own feet and ends up sprawled across the far side of the corridor, shaking in terror at what he’d almost done.

“No, no, no, no, nononono…” he sobs quietly to himself. He can’t believe how close he’d come to pressing his feeding hand against that woman’s chest — of sucking the life right out of her. He nearly killed a person. And while Todd is indeed correct that John’s killed people in the past — when he’s _had_ to take a life, it’s almost always been done in the service of protecting others. This feels very much different. He can’t really conceive of this as anything other than ultimately self-serving, survival be damned.

Sheppard curls himself into the smallest form possible, his treacherous right hand and arm folded tightly beneath him, trapped between his body and the floor. He hurts _everywhere,_ yet at the same time his exhaustion prevents him from feeling the full pain of his hunger. He’s cold, and he’s terrified, though the terror is mostly of himself; of what he came so close to doing.

And that’s how Todd eventually finds him: shivering, _trembling,_ curled up in a ball on the floor.

“Sheppard,” Todd rumbles comfortingly in his multi-tonal voice, and then strong arms are lifting him into Todd’s lap, cradling his body against Todd’s larger torso. There’s a hand in his hair, and another stroking along his arm. “Are you alright? Have you fed?”

“No, and _no,_ thank god,” Sheppard says, voice strained. “So much for the lack of Wraith instincts,” he says dryly. “I don’t even remember leaving your room.”

“You cannot fault the body for doing what it must to preserve itself at all costs.”

“I can when it pulls shit like this on me.”

Todd sighs. “You are dying, John. Your body does not have the energy required to continue converting your tissues _and_ keep your organs functioning simultaneously. It is a mathematical certainty. Your stubbornness cannot overcome biology.”

“Then you might as well kill me now,” Sheppard says, and he feels Todd’s claws tighten around him as the Wraith snarls silently in displeasure.

Sheppard’s no stranger to the hallmarks of grief, and he suspects Todd’s bypassed denial entirely and progressed straight on to anger, though he’s burying it fairly well. He’d never have imagined a Wraith could care enough about him to preemptively grieve his passing, and he can’t help but be somewhat touched by this revelation. Admittedly, John hasn’t had a lot of time to ruminate on Todd’s confession from earlier in the nest, but he’s beginning to think it’s possible this thing isn’t entirely one-sided.

As a kid, John was always the type who was more fascinated by dragons, and dinosaurs, and other movie monsters than he was by the knights intent on slaying them, and he has to admit there’s something definitely _cool_ about the Wraith. They have a sort of otherworldly beauty that he’d maybe have been able to appreciate sooner, had he not been so preoccupied with staying off their menu.

He thinks back on every interaction he’s had with Todd in the past, and he realizes the majority of them have often been characterized by a sort of playful antagonism, to which he’s usually found it all too easy to respond with his own brand of snark. Has Todd been flirting with him this whole time? More importantly, has Sheppard been subconsciously flirting _back?_ That’s certainly something to think on.

“How did you know I was here, anyway?”

“I felt a disturbance in —”

“— the Force? _Please_ say you felt a disturbance in the Force,” Sheppard grins giddily, his head lolling against Todd’s chest, belying his exhaustion.

Todd tilts his head in confusion, trying and failing to make sense of Sheppard’s words. “… in the hive-sense,” he finishes, and Sheppard’s body sags against him as he sighs in disappointment.

“My thing was more fun,” John mutters. Though, suddenly his lucidity peaks again and he looks around in horror. “Take me back. _Please_ take me back. I don’t want to be here any more.”

“John, you still have not fed,” Todd says gently, and John can’t help but fix his attention up on the torn-open cocoon.

“Don’t try to make me,” he says, wide-eyed and frantic. “I can’t. I _can’t.”_ The woman’s head lols to the side against the wall of her compartment, her eyes wide open and glassy, seemingly staring down at Sheppard, and he can’t tell if she’s at all aware of him or not. What warmth he can somehow perceive of her body seems again treacherously inviting. He looks away, inadvertently pressing his face into Todd’s chest.

Todd makes a sound that’s not quite a hiss and not quite a sigh, but somewhere in between the two. “Your stubbornness will be the end of you.”

“Yeah, not the first time someone’s told me that, but I’m still here.” He curls his fingers into Todd’s coat, trying to leverage himself up to look Todd in the eye, though he’s only partly successful. “Please can we leave here? _Please?”_ And then he sags against Todd again.

“Very well,” Todd says, resigned. Slowly, he hauls Sheppard to his feet, and then lifts the man into his arms to begin the long trek back to his private quarters.

* * *

Sheppard is utterly exhausted, and he spends most of their journey with his eyes blissfully shut, but there’s a moment where he opens them and catches Todd staring at him in contemplation.

“What?”

Todd just shakes his head absently. “You must be the most troublesome creature I have ever come across,” he says in exasperation. Then he mutters under his breath, “I should simply have fed on you and been done with it.” It’s a very human mannerism, given that Wraith primarily communicate telepathically. John’s fairly certain any other Wraith would merely have hissed at him rather than resort to verbalizing. Maybe Todd’s been around humans too long.

“Are you flirting with me?” Sheppard asks lightly, peering up to survey pale jade features. “Is that how Wraith flirt — with death threats?”

Todd looks down at him and seems to roughly mirror John’s expression, his mouth curling almost into a leer. “Perhaps.”

“‘Perhaps’ _which?”_ Sheppard wonders. “You flirting with me, or Wraith flirting with death threats?”

Todd chuckles and Sheppard feels the rumbling vibration all along where his body is pressed to Todd’s chest. “Either,” the Wraith says somewhat flippantly. Then, more seriously, “Both.”

Sheppard takes a breath. “Okay. Okay, I can work with that.”

* * *

Once returned to the Commander’s quarters, Todd settles Sheppard back in the nest, though he lingers close by on the edge of the alcove.

John is so incredibly tired. He’s almost at the point where just lifting his head is a feat in and of itself, and his eyelids are _so heavy,_ but he knows he’s not quite ready to sleep just yet.

“You’re staring,” Sheppard murmurs. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I am trying to decide what to do with you,” Todd grumbles. “A larval Iratus has a more developed sense of self-preservation than you do.”

John gives an amused huff. “That would have been funnier when I was still part bug.” He pauses to consider. “Actually, nah, probably not.”

Todd makes an aggrieved sound and seems to arrive at a decision. He shrugs off his coat and leaves it draped over the chaise, then undoes the top several hook-like closures of the tunic he wears underneath.

“What are you doing?” John asks, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“I fed on you, once, now what is the phrase you humans use, ‘turn about is fair play’?” And Todd reaches for Sheppard’s right hand, pressing the feeding organ in his palm against Todd’s own chest.

John is too shocked to pull away immediately, but when he does try to do so, Todd doesn’t let him.

“No, Sheppard you _must_ do this! I am giving you my permission. Take what you need.”

“You think not getting _consent_ was my only issue with this?” Sheppard forces himself to sit up so he can glare at Todd properly.

“Is it not?”

“No! Consent or not, I’m pretty sure I don’t want the experience of knowing what that feels like.”

Todd just looks baffled. “Why should that matter when your life hangs in the balance?”

John just shakes his head in frustration. “You don’t get it.”

“Clearly I do not. It is not an _unpleasant_ experience,” Todd tries, hoping his words will be persuasive.

“ _That’s_ the problem!” John insists. “Will it feel anything like it did when you gave me my life back?”

“It is similar to the Gift of Life, yes.”

“Then, no, thanks. I don’t want to _like_ it. I don’t want to have to think of that every time I see a Wraith kill a human, and remember how _good_ it feels.”

“Do you want to never again set foot in Atlantis?” Todd doesn’t raise his voice, but he doesn’t have to. Sheppard goes quiet. “If you do not feed, I fear you will not make it through the night.” He locks eyes with Sheppard, and John can see there’s a pleading expression in that yellow gaze.

Sheppard grits his teeth. “How will I know when to stop? What if… what if I take too much? What if I kill you?”

“I will not _let_ you,” Todd promises.

Sheppard flexes his fingers, the claws stopping just short of breaking greenish skin. He feels the hypnotically slow beat of Todd’s heart within his chest, feels Todd lean into where he still holds John’s palm against his flesh. He feels _so tired._ But he forces himself to focus on Todd, on the _thrum_ just under his skin that calls to something in John, though not quite as sweetly as the human woman had. He presses his palm more firmly against Todd’s skin, winces as he feels the maw in his hand open, and then something within lurches forward and Sheppard shrieks in alarm, yanking his hand instantly back. He feels sick.

“Holy _shit!_ What the _fuck_ was that? There’s something _inside…?”_ He grasps his right hand in his left and tries to peer into the feeding slit.

“Those would be the tendrils that extend to form the conduit,” Todd calmly explains.

“ _Tendrils?_ That was like the most disturbing thing I’ve ever felt _in my life.”_ He doesn’t even bother trying to suppress the violent shudder that runs through him. “I can’t do this. I just _can’t.”_ he insists. “I‘m so sorry. Really, I just…” He tries to curl into a ball, but he doesn’t have enough energy even for that. Suddenly he wishes he was in his own bed, back in Atlantis, with his friends — his _family_ — around him. He’d trade the ever-present hum of the hive ship for the sound of the waves breaking against his city in a heartbeat. “Please… Tell Rodney, and Teyla, and Ronon… Tell them I’m so sorry…”

Todd sighs. “You can tell them yourself,” he says kindly, and he slips his own feeding hand up underneath Sheppard’s shirt to press down against his chest.

For the second time in his life, Sheppard is suddenly aflame with the energy Todd feeds into his body. It’s heated, and electric, and almost like an orgasm, except that he feels it _everywhere._ Though his eyes are shut, there’s an explosion of white beneath his eyelids, and he’s gasping for air, unable to satisfy his lungs. His skin tingles all over with electrical impulses, making him hungry for touch, and he reaches blindly for Todd, winding his limbs around the Wraith like an octopus, grounding himself in the sensation of another body pressed up against him.

When it’s done, Todd doesn’t immediately remove his hand, and Sheppard is left panting against Todd’s clavicle, fingers still clutching at the silk of the Wraith’s tunic as he revels in the best high he’s ever experienced — twice now. John’s mouth works uselessly as Todd stares down at him in concern, and it takes him a moment to find his voice.

“That’s the second time now I swore I’d be waking up dead,” Sheppard says, and he toys with the idea of asking for a cigarette, but of course Todd wouldn’t get the reference.

Todd grins, but it’s all too easy for Sheppard to detect the weariness in the Wraith’s eyes, and he wonders just how much energy Todd gave him. Enough that he barely feels the hunger anymore; where it had previously been turned all the way up to eleven, now it simmers softly down around maybe a three. And the hazy lassitude he feels is a welcome reprieve from the bone-deep exhaustion he’d been overwhelmed by.

Finally, Todd removes his hand out from within Sheppard’s shirt, and Sheppard can’t help but feel bereft at the loss. Todd is still tangled up in the rest of Sheppard’s limbs, and when he attempts a more upright position, Sheppard tightens his hold.

“Stay,” he asks, and after a momentary pause Todd acquiesces, removing his boots and sliding further into the nest with Sheppard. After some shuffling and adjusting, they settle with their arms around each other, Todd’s face buried against Sheppard’s neck, and Sheppard’s fingers buried in Todd’s hair. “Thank you,” John says softly, and he has to admit he enjoys the comfortable intimacy they seem to have found together.

“You are most welcome, John Sheppard,” Todd replies, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through John’s body, then trailing off into a resonant purr, which John easily falls asleep to.

* * *

When John next wakes it’s to the sound of his own name being purred in a low, multi-tonal register as Todd nuzzles into his neck and flexes his hips against John’s thigh. It’s clear the Wraith is dreaming, but that he’s dreaming of Sheppard is at once both flattering as well as titillating, and the first-hand evidence that John is the subject of Todd’s darkest fantasies seems to spark something in him he’d only thus far considered speculatively.

John shifts closer, tangling his fingers in Todd’s hair and scratching lightly at the base of his skull. Todd’s purr deepens, and he noses under Sheppard’s jaw, sending shivers down John’s spine.

“ _Todd,”_ John murmurs, trailing his free hand down Todd’s neck and chest, clutching at the silk of his tunic. Todd seems to come fully awake at that, his hands clutching more dextrously at Sheppard’s body, and his head tilting down to better view the object of his desire.

“Sheppard…” Todd rasps, and John considers that it used to drive him crazy, how Todd said his name, like the Wraith was eternally taunting him. Though now it still drives him crazy, albeit for more enjoyable reasons…

“You were having quite the dream there, buddy. Care to fill me in?” The lighting is just a bit too dark to be sure, but he thinks there might be a sort of greenish blush spreading across Todd’s face. John grins, pressing his mouth lightly to Todd’s, though for a moment it’s like kissing a statue until Todd clues in and begins to respond, opening himself to Sheppard’s perusal. There’s almost a honeyed taste to Todd’s mouth, which Sheppard can’t help but want more of, though he remembers to be careful of Todd’s teeth.

At the same time, John trails a hand lower down along the wiry musculature of Todd’s body, fingers slipping into the waist of his trousers, intent on seeking some way to undo them. Suddenly, Todd’s hand grabs for the one Sheppard has in his pants, stilling his motions.

“Wait, Sheppard stop.”

John instantly does so, removing his hand and feeling both confused and a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?” And before he can retreat any further, Todd’s arm comes back around him to hold him close.

“ _No,”_ Todd rumbles emphatically, grinning. “A thousand times, _no.”_ Then he sighs, and Sheppard’s not sure whether he looks more sad or wary. “You are not yet returned entirely to yourself, and while I know your mind is your own, I can sense your doubt in this regard. I would not wish there to be any possibility for you to regret what we might share between us.”

“Ugh,” Sheppard groans in frustration. “ _You’re_ the one who got me all hot and bothered in the first place, and now you’re turning me down?”

“I know. Forgive me.” Todd rests his forehead against Sheppard’s, his eyes glinting in the darkness, his hand gently cupping Sheppard’s jaw. “I hope you know what an utter temptation you are at this moment, Sheppard. It is taking all the strength of my resolve to refuse you.”

John chuckles in self-deprecation. “You’re a very good Wraith, Todd,” he deadpans.

Todd laughs, a mellifluous sound that Sheppard wouldn’t mind hearing more of. “Ah, high praise indeed. I suspect the fact that you are still alive makes me quite a bad Wraith, actually.”

“Well, you’re my favourite Wraith, at least.”

“Mmm, and you’re my favourite human.”

* * *

The Master of Sciences Biological returns the next morning, having finally completed the second instalment of John’s treatment, and he administers it as quickly and efficiently as he did the first dose.

“Incredible,” the biologist comments as he gives Sheppard a brief examination. “All traces of Iratus are completely removed.”

“Yeah, here’s hoping the next one does the same with the Wraithy bits,” Sheppard says.

Afterwards, John settles back down into the nest, intent on conserving as much of his Gifted energy as possible. He leaves extra space for Todd, though the Commander seems otherwise preoccupied.

“Will you be alright if I leave you for a short while?” Todd asks, and there’s something guarded about his general manner that makes John fairly sure he knows where Todd will be heading. After all, he has to replace the energy he Gifted to Sheppard somehow.

“Yeah,” John says, resigned to the fact that Todd can’t control his own biology any more than any human can. “I’m pretty sure there’s no more hunger-walking in my future.”

“Let us hope not,” Todd says with a grin, and then he’s gone, the doors to his quarters closing behind him with a hiss.

* * *

Todd returns to his quarters after he is once again sated. He had fed upon the woman in the hold which Sheppard had refused to consume; it had seemed the reasonable choice considering that her cocoon had been damaged anyway.

Todd’s return trip is shorter than his trip to the hold had been, though he tells himself that his eagerness to return isn’t _solely_ based on Sheppard’s presence. Whether the sentiment is true or not remains to be seen.

Regardless, Sheppard is asleep when he does return, facing outward towards Todd’s living space, though the human has left room for Todd to join him if he so wishes. Todd is momentarily at odds with his desires; he would like nothing more than to join Sheppard in the nest, though he is too full of energy to simply lie motionless in a semblance of sleep, and the temptation to engage in more heated activities is ever-present. He resolves to complete the work he’d begun on his data pad, checking and rechecking the coding and equations of his underlings, though after a while he ends up immersed in a game of logic puzzles instead.

Eventually, Sheppard does rouse from sleep, stretching his limbs lengthwise before he looks around and notices Todd with his data pad at the table.

“Oh, wow, look at you,” he murmurs appreciatively.

“I beg your pardon?” Todd takes a self-conscious glance over his person, but doesn’t find anything amiss.

“You’re all… _glowy,”_ Sheppard says, taking a moment to find the right descriptor.

“I am _not,”_ Todd insists, glancing again at his hands.

“Well, no, not literally,” Sheppard scoffs, “but you look… brighter, somehow. Healthier?” Then his expression falls. “Oh, yeah, I guess that would make sense.”

Todd sighs. “I did attempt not to be obvious about my activities. Most humans do not seem to notice the difference between a hungry and well-fed Wraith.” He grins to himself. “Though I suppose you are not ‘most humans’.”

“Nope,” Sheppard says, popping the ‘P’. He shrugs off the blankets and meanders over to sit atop the table almost directly in front of Todd.

Todd can’t help but flare his sensory pits as he inhales, taking in the heat of Sheppard’s body, the delicious aroma he exudes. It’s closer to how he remembers it, now, than it was when he’d first observed Sheppard in his quarters on Atlantis only days ago — more evidence that the treatments are progressing as they should.

“Jeez, is your hair shinier too?” Sheppard brazenly slides a hand into Todd’s hair, testing a section between his thumb and forefinger, and Todd’s eyes slide shut at the contact. “I can see it now: ‘Herbal Essence of Wraith’ — what they don’t tell you is that the active ingredient is Soylent Green.” And though his words are said in a tone Todd suspects is meant to be humorous, Sheppard himself doesn’t laugh. Though, Todd doesn’t give the observation much attention, as Sheppard’s fingers continue to stroke through the silvery white strands.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, but if you keep doing that, I do not see any reason to care.”

And it’s not long after that they end up back in the nest, Sheppard combing through and playing with Todd’s hair, while Todd purrs softly into Sheppard’s chest, determined to keep his contact chaste until Sheppard is once again wholly himself. Though, it is a task which is proving more difficult than he’d initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think there's only one chapter left to go, though I suspect it might need a ratings bump. 😏
> 
> As always, please comment if you're able! It's the best part of my day!


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